To Lyger 0: More or less! Although "Cavalière Lavande" actually means "Lavender Knight."

That evening, just before his patrol across the city, Chrysaor scanned the streets around Collège François Dupont, dropped past one of his drones, and landed in the alleyway behind the Dupain-Chengs' bakery. He paused, listening carefully for the sounds of pedestrians out walking around the city who might see him and connect him to the bakery. A couple of voices were audible near the front of the bakery – Tom's deep baritone almost drowning out the woman he was talking with. But all the voices were originating from the front of the store; no one was close to him.

Quietly, he placed his hand on the back door and pushed it open. Sabine could be heard speaking to a customer in the café, but business was starting to die down for the evening. Cosette, standing in the kitchen and meticulously covering trays of baguettes for the next day, didn't look up from her work as Chrysaor made his way past her, through the door to the stairwell, and up the stairs to the apartment above the bakery. He paused at the door, hearing voices from within, but relaxed and pushed the door open on recognizing the voices.

"Now this orange roll is for flight," Emilie was explaining, holding a sushi tray open and showing the contents to Leïla, who poked it hesitantly, her eyebrows furrowed. Kheaa, sitting on her shoulder, watched with rapt attention. Emilie continued pointed out the individual rolls. "Green lets you breathe underwater, blue makes it easier to endure cold, purple lets you go to space… Be careful with these," Emilie warned, the corners of her lips turning up in amusement. "With everything that happened, our supply of power-up potions has been severely depleted, so I only have enough doses here to give you a couple of each one. So try not to use them unless it's absolutely necessary." She frowned. "If we do run out, we'll have to wait until Ladybug returns to make more – she knows how to get all of the supplies."

Kheaa leaned in closer, almost falling off of Leïla's shoulder as he did so. "Amazing!" he enthused, jumping in surprise and settling into a hover when he tipped too far forward and flew out into space in front of Leïla. "I think the last time I got to use any of the power-ups was in Atlantis! Not since I was found – Wang–" He cut off abruptly, blinking back tears.

Leïla reached up to cup her hand around the Kwami. "I know," she told him softly. "I didn't know your last holder, but he sounds like he was a good person." She sighed heavily. "I hope I can live up to him."

"You already have, Nabatala," Kheaa assured her. "I am… glad to have another holder. After so long lost and alone, I am glad I do not have to be hidden away any longer."

"And I am glad that you are content with your new holder!" Emilie told Kheaa, giving him a warm smile. "I admit, I was afraid to give you another holder so soon; it's a relief to see the two of you bonding well."

Kheaa bobbed his head. "It was a relief to have my miraculous reactivated after Fu's death. I… was lonely."

Emilie hummed pensively. "I will be sure to keep that in mind," she promised. "Although I hope that will not be a problem again – not for a long time," she added, her eyes drifting to Leïla. Finally she looked over and met Chrysaor's eye as he stood in the doorway. "Ah, come in, come in!" she called, beckoning him. "Leïla arrived a little early, so I thought I would give her another lesson before your patrol tonight." She furrowed her brows pensively, staring at him as if to read his thoughts. "But how are you tonight, Chrysaor?"

Chrysaor looked down, pursing his lips in thought. "I am… well, I think." Emilie arched an eyebrow doubtfully, and he let out a chuckle. "That is not 100% accurate," he amended. "Although I am still uncertain of whether that is a good thing or a bad thing. We tested the new phone system, and it functions properly. And along with that came news from the rest of the country. France is in utter disarray – even beyond the departments that we have been able to contact and support. But even more importantly, we may have found a lead on the Tarasque's current location this morning. The poisoned air is traveling down the Rhone River. I estimate an 86% probability that the Tarasque is somewhere along the river, or at least close to it. Unfortunately, we cannot narrow it down beyond that."

Leïla's eyes widened, staring at him with rapt attention. "That's–that's amazing! I can't believe you found it!"

"Not with absolute certainty," he warned her. "Someone needs to search if we are going to know for certain."

Emilie leaned forward, a calculating look in her eyes. "Can you send a drone?"

He shook his head. "I have sent them to the limit of their range multiple times without finding the Tarasque. They would be well out of range."

"What about flying down there?"

He frowned. "One of us could fly down to search," he allowed, "but if we did indeed meet the Tarasque, how would we send word back? Without working radio or communicators, it would be a long journey as a round trip."

Leïla swallowed hard, looked down at Kheaa in her hands, and then up at Chrysaor. "Then in that case, what do you want to do?"

"We need to investigate," he told them. "As many as we can bring with us."

"And if you do find it?" asked Emilie, leaning back. "Are you going to fight it?"

"We have to fight it eventually, do we not?" he pointed out. "Its poison continues to spread, and until it has been neutralized, we cannot rebuild or bring back those who fled."

Leïla's eyes widened, looking back and forth between Chrysaor and Emilie. "I–I don't think I'm ready for–for that thing…"

"That is what a miraculous holder must sometimes do," Kheaa squeaked. "You won't always have to just fight regular humans – with or without powers. Occasionally there are greater threats that you have to face."

"Still," Leïla objected, a worried look on her face. "This is a lot more than just Fire-Fly…"

Emilie put her hand on Leïla's, and Leïla instantly stilled, drawing in a ragged breath. "No one is saying that you have to go – or that you will have to fight it on your own," Emilie assured her. "Isn't that right?" she added, giving Chrysaor a pointed look.

Chrysaor nodded firmly. "Absolutely. If you feel uncomfortable facing the Tarasque with us, you do not have to. You can remain here in Paris to protect the Guardian and ensure that Sandy and Fire-Fly do not undo all our hard work. No one will think any less of you if that is the case. But if you are willing, you will not be alone."

"I'll… have to think about it," Leïla told him, looking down at the floor.

"I believe in you," Kheaa assured her, patting her cheek.

"It may take us some time to prepare," Chrysaor added. "I will contact you before we leave."

Emilie hummed, her gaze drifting across the room toward her bedroom. "Do you think it would help to bring one of the miraculous we've recovered over the last couple months? If you do find it, you will need all the help you can get."

Chrysaor stroked his chin in thought. "I would not use one myself, but if you can lend me one, I will be sure to find a user."

Emilie nodded. "Come and see me before you leave, then," she instructed him.

Nodding, Chrysaor turned to Leïla. "Are you ready for our patrol?"

She nodded her agreement. "I told my parents I was going to check on Mme Agreste and have dinner here, so we won't expect me until later."

"In that case, I suppose you ought to come back for some pastries when you finish," Emilie suggested. "I'm sure Sabine can spare a few croissants for breakfast in the morning!"

Relaxing, Leïla smiled. "Thanks." Looking around, she furrowed her brows. "But are we just going to leave from here?"

Chrysaor jerked his head toward the stairs to Marinette's room. "Provided that we are careful, no one will spot us if we leave from the roof."

Leïla giggled. "That's convenient."

Emilie stifled a laugh.

Ten minutes later, Nabatala and Chrysaor were racing along the rooftops across Paris, the last rays of sunlight illuminating the city in pinks and oranges. A few vehicles moved up and down the streets, many more bicycles. Pedestrians no longer seemed afraid to be out. Chrysaor activated his jets and ascended higher to scan the city, accessing his drones and checking the locations of the police patrols. In spite of Roger's misgivings about sending poorly-trained recruits out in to the city, the crime rate had decreased significantly with the additional manpower; apart from two incidents, the new officers had performed acceptably.

Not that Roger's attitude had improved all that much; nothing short of an end to this crisis would really improve anyone's attitude.

Off in the distance, Chrysaor caught a glimpse of something with wide wings flying around the former site of the Montparnasse Tower – Albailier? He was about to suggest flying in that direction when he glanced down at his companion. Nabatala had been unusually quiet, concentrating on keeping her footing as she jumped from building to building. Slowly, Chrysaor drifted down to fly beside her. "It is okay to be afraid," he pointed out.

Nabatala jumped, tripping over a cable lying across the roof in front of her. Throwing out her harpoon she just barely managed to catch herself before she could splay out across the roof. "What? I'm not scared!" she insisted, her wide eyes giving the lie to her words. She sighed heavily. "But I didn't think heroes were supposed to be afraid."

Chrysaor stared at her in shock. "Of course heroes can feel fear. They are human after all – or most of them are," he amended.

She swallowed. "When I first met Ryoku and Lupa Gris, they were absolutely fearless," she explained. "I was so scared – a mob attacked me out of nowhere, and I really thought they were going to kill me… or worse." She shuddered, looking away, and squeezed her harpoon. "Then Ryoku just… appeared in front of me, lightning and sword and fury. She didn't show any fear. And suddenly I wasn't afraid anymore, either."

"To be fair, having seen Ryoku's report, she could easily have fought that mob if it had come to it," he mused wryly. Seeing the troubled expression in her eyes, he hummed. "The Heroes of Paris can and do feel fear," he told her.

"Not that I've ever seen."

"Let me tell you a story," he began. "Last summer, Pegasus agreed to work with an alien who had crash landed on Earth some time earlier."

"Sarsavat?" she asked.

He shook his head. "He has only been on Earth for a few months – we have actually met several aliens over the past year. No, this particular alien was a Shunjar who requested Pegasus' assistance in returning to his people. Pegasus agreed: heroes are supposed to help those in need, and the Shunjar offered knowledge to help Earth begin exploring outer space. Pegasus helped him to construct the necessary transmitter, and they set it up at the Eiffel Tower to give it enough range. But it was all a lie: the Shunjar attempted to instigate an invasion."

"He what?" Nabatala froze in place, staring at Chrysaor in shock. "But–"

Chrysaor nodded. "He caught the Heroes of Paris completely off-guard. When Pegasus tried to stop him, the Shunjar turned his drones against him. You can be sure that Pegasus felt fear in that moment – under attack from his own drones and with a possible alien invasion overhead."

She gasped. "I–I think I remember that…" She cocked her head. "But it suddenly disappeared – nothing happened, right?"

"It turned out well enough in the end," he assured her. "But the fear was still there. Heroes can be frightened; what makes one a hero is not the absence of fear but its mastery."